


A Crisis of Great Urgency

by Lilith Sedai (TAFKAB)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/Lilith%20Sedai
Summary: The Jedi Temple rises as one, to give the only possible response to an overwhelming force that menaces their well-being and very way of life. (Written in response to a certain allegation by Master Tholme in Qui-Gon Jinn's biography on Wookieepedia.)  (An old story)





	A Crisis of Great Urgency

Yoda's eyes snapped open in the night, and he rose from his cot, reaching out to the Force for strength. 

His senses told him it was time. 

He robed himself and went out into the dormitory corridor, where others stirred likewise, lifting troubled faces, seeking the source of their disquiet. 

Yoda reached for his commlink. "Padawan Kenobi. Time, it is. Arrived, has a day we long have dreaded." 

"Yes. I have sensed it too, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan responded gravely. "I shall join you momentarily." 

"We gather in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Padawan." 

He went forth, calling the Council to him one by one, each carrying supplies long prepared against this day. 

They assembled quietly in the mossy shadows near the door, and readied their precious gear, Obi-Wan passing among them quietly, distributing respirators to each Councillor. Behind them, other Jedi stood in varying states of deshabille, half-hidden amidst the trees and stones, pale, expectant figures like ghosts awaiting judgment. 

"Approaches, he does." Yoda gripped his lightsaber with determination. "Move together, we must." He gazed soberly around at those who assembled there. "Never before has this been done. Suffer, we may, and yet we must not fail." 

They fanned out into the main corridor on silent feet, taking up positions behind the pillars and falling into perfect stillness, waiting. 

Already the wavefront of a powerful aura permeated the Force, a tangible presence in the air. They glanced toward one another for reassurance, taking deep breaths from the safety of their respirators. A soothing sound of trickling water emerged from the open portal nearby. 

In minutes, soft footfalls could be heard, and then a tall, cloaked silhouette became visible against the growing light. 

Yoda waited for him to advance nearly to the center of the corridor, then stepped forward, brave, lightsaber ready in one small fist, concealed among the folds of his robe, unlit. 

"Qui-Gon Jinn." 

The figure halted, serene. "My master." 

"Returned to us, you have, from Rodia," Yoda observed, feeling the nervousness of the Jedi waiting at his back. "A long time coming, this day has been." 

"I will not submit to you." Qui-Gon said calmly, his own hand migrating to the hilt of his lightsaber. 

"Submit, you will," Yoda disagreed, and ignited his blade. 

At his signal, Obi-Wan and the councilors all sprang forward as one, closing a ring of humming plasma around Qui-Gon Jinn. 

"You too, my padawan?" Qui-Gon's eyes saddened. 

"Yes, my master." Obi-Wan stood firm. "It is the Will of the Force." 

"So be it." Qui-Gon's own lightsaber hummed to life, and he spun, intercepting a slash from Ki Adi Mundi, parrying another from Depa Billaba, his blade a green blur of defense. 

"Carefully!" Yoda snapped. "Overpower him, not kill him, you will!" 

Obi-Wan flung himself into the fray. As Qui-Gon's padawan, he was a key to this operation; he knew his master's combat style and vulnerabilities better than any other, and the Council judged he would be his master's weakness, rendering him unwilling-- or perhaps unable-- to strike. 

They were correct. 

Qui-Gon gave ground before his padawan, pulling his strokes, frowning desperately as he sensed the closing of the trap, the Councillors deftly maneuvering him toward the open door where the fountains waited, cool and serene. 

"No!" He shouted, as Obi-Wan threw himself forward in willing self-sacrifice, and Qui-Gon's blade vanished, hilt clattering to the floor, as Obi-Wan struck his chest and knocked him to the ground. The momentum of his leap pushed Qui-Gon through the door and tumbled him over and over, until they splashed together into a deep pool at the base of a waterfall. 

"Have you, we do!" Yoda cackled, and they descended. 

"Adjust your respirators to maximum." 

"Watch out for those teeth. He bites." 

"You wish, padawan." 

"His cloak you will take!" 

"The boots next." 

"Stop him!" 

"Use the Force!" 

"OW!" 

In short order they stripped the thrashing Jedi Master and pinioned his arms behind him, holding him in waist-deep water with powerful bonds of pure Force energy. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, gazing up into the austere and angry face, sensing the man's disappointment and reproach. 

"I'm sorry, master." He stepped back, bending his head, penitent. 

"Your soap, Obi-Wan." Windu handed him a large, white bar, and Master Koth presented him with a rough linen washcloth. 

"It's necessary," Obi-Wan pleaded. "The atmosphere in our quarters is on the verge of becoming sentient, master. Your clothes closet has petitioned for full membership in the Republic, and your bedding is demanding preferred trade rights. And look-- the leaves on that tree overhead are withering." 

"Complaints we have had, from the Senate." 

"And from the ambassadorial corps as well." 

"And the cleaning staff." 

"And the healing corps." 

"And all the diplomats involved with your missions for the past twenty solar cycles." 

"Not befitting a Jedi is your hygiene, Qui-Gon." 

Obi-Wan stepped forward and set the washcloth against Qui-Gon's chest, meeting his master's eyes with ritual gravity, and raising the soap, he began to scrub. 

"I demand diplomatic immunity!" Qui-Gon bellowed. "This is a clear violation of a prisoner's right to religious freedom!" But they were steadfast, ignoring him. 

"Religious, this stink is not." 

"Nor is it particularly diplomatic, though I suppose you've developed an immunity." 

"Look-- he's not the same race as Master Windu after all!" 

"You owe me ten dataries." 

"Damn." 

As the morning progressed and the stench abated, the Jedi slowly drew near, congregating in quiet ranks to witness their salvation. 

It took patience, a staggering quantity of soap, and vast reserves of precious water, but at last the fountain ran clean once more: the arduous deed was done. When it was finished, all assembled agreed Padawan Kenobi had done a most excellent-- and thorough-- service to their community. 

They removed their respirators and stood back, stunned by the enormity of their joint accomplishment. 

"Done well, you have, Padawan Kenobi. Even impressive genitals, clean they are." 

"I live to serve." 

"Look. You could eat your dinner off his chest!" 

"Should we try it before we release him?" 

"Wash him again, we would have to, if that you do." 

The somber crowd slowly filed away, leaving only the Council and Kenobi with the sparkling clean Jedi Master. 

"His clothing has been washed and his quarters steam-sanitized, Obi-Wan." Mace stepped up calmly. "I've seen to fumigating his possessions, as well." 

"Thank you, Master Windu." Obi-Wan glanced anxiously at Qui-Gon's smoldering scowl. "Upon reflection, I believe I would like to petition the Council for assignment to the Padawan Protection Program." 

"Nonsense, Kenobi. Proceed as we have planned." Windu slapped his shoulder encouragingly. 

Obi-wan swallowed thickly as the Council trooped out in single file, each one releasing his or her share of the Force bindings on departure, until Qui-Gon stood free once more, eyes blazing. 

Obi-Wan lifted his chin, forcing himself to remain brave as Qui-Gon stalked from the water, his expression positively feral. 

"If you stay this clean," he said swiftly, falling back on the plan and cloaking himself in false calm, "I'll warm your bed whenever you wish." 

That stopped the implacable advance; Qui-Gon's eyes went wide. 

"You'll--" 

"As often as you like. Whenever you like. Wherever you like. However you like-- even rimming. Starting right now, if you want." Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled. "My master always taught me it's best to negotiate from a position of strength." 

"Indeed he did." Qui-Gon's strong arms wrapped around him, and they lowered him to the stone walk. "So now, let's seal the bargain," he murmured in Obi-Wan's ear. "And afterward, I believe we'll discuss... your refusal to clean your room." 

"NOOOOOO!!!!!!"

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in Wookieepedia: 
> 
> "Jinn considered caring for one's physical appearance a futility. However, his looks and behavior were not unanimously approved within the Jedi order. Although he admittedly revered his colleague, Jedi Master Tholme once commented that Qui-Gon Jinn looked neglected "like a Bantha" and exhaled a foul body odor reminiscent of that of a Rodian."


End file.
